


like a prayer

by tumemxnques



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumemxnques/pseuds/tumemxnques
Summary: “Wanda,” she whispers, and Wanda thinks it sounds like a prayer.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	like a prayer

**Author's Note:**

> i'll just dump this here lol, pretty old fic tbh
> 
> a more poetic one, hope you enjoy.

**» like a prayer «**

“Wanda”, falls from the Widow’s full lips. Again, “Wanda,” she says. She repeats that name, over and over again, carefully trying out the feeling of it in her mouth. “Wanda,” she whispers, and Wanda thinks it sounds like a prayer.

“Wanda,” she mumbles softly for the first time as she kneels down next to the girl’s bed. “Wanda.” Wanda keeps on sobbing, her heart aching, longing for her brother, her better half who left his life back in Sokovia, a home that no longer exists. “Wanda,” she sighs and lets her head rest on the girl’s hand. “Wanda,” she keeps on soothing the girl, softly lulling her back to sleep. 

“Wanda,” she gasps as the glass shatters on the tiles of the kitchen floor. “Wanda.” The Sokovian tries to pick up the shards, kneeling in the little puddle of water. “Wanda.” _Leave it,_ the Russian’s soft tone says, but Wanda can’t react through the haze of her tears. The only thing she notices is the sharp pain in her fingers when a shard cuts all five of her fingers open, the blood staining the puddle a dark red immediately. “Wanda,” Natasha groans and crouches down next to Wanda, gently taking the girl’s hands into hers, wrapping the cloth she’s been holding tightly around the bleeding hand. “Wanda,” she sighs as she presses the witch’s cheek against her chest. “Wanda.”

“Wanda,” she moans and grabs a fistful of brown, long curls. “Wanda.” A breathless sound this time. “Wanda, Wanda, Wanda,” it gets louder with every time she says the name. “Wanda,” she sobs and accidentally pulls on the hair, hard. But Wanda doesn’t care, her eyes a scarlet red, her fingers around Natasha’s knees surrounded by red light. “Wanda!” she screams, but she doesn’t stay the night. 

“Wanda,” she cries when the witch slips through the door. “Wanda.” She reaches for Wanda like a child, so the girl falls into the inviting arms in one fast movement, holding the trembling body of the redhead close. The nightmares are terrible, Wanda has seen them before, and she can’t help but feels like they are her fault. “Wanda,” she wails and clings to the brunette like her life depends on it. Maybe it does. “It’s okay, Natasha.” Natasha sobs: “Wanda.” Wanda curls up next to her and holds her in her arms, trying to get her to sleep again. “Wanda,” she whispers, and this time Wanda is the one to stay the night.

“Wanda,” she gasps as she pulls her aside after the fight in Scotland. Vision is resting in a corner, Sam is flying and Cap looks like he might pass out any second on that seat. “I’m fine, Nat, I’m sorry.” Natasha scans Wanda’s bleeding face and cups it carefully, but Wanda gently shakes her head and puts them down. “I’m sorry, Nat, we can’t. Vision and I... whatever you and me had, it needs to stay in the past, okay?” Natasha swallows as she stares at Wanda. “Wanda-“ she begins, but Wanda shakes her head and takes a step backwards. “No. I’m sorry.” 

“Wanda,” she cries in the bathroom after they have arrived in Wakanda and Wanda hears it, but she moves past the door quickly, not wanting to cry when she has to be strong soon. She would deal with the mess she’s made later. “Wanda...” Until she wouldn’t.

“Wanda,” she breathes, her hands on Wanda’s cheeks, the breath warm on her face. “Wanda.” Then her lips are on hers. One last time. Wanda kisses back, because Natasha still means the world to her and she couldn’t stand losing her out on the battlefield. “It’s okay,” she whispers against the now blonde’s lips. “I’ll be here when it’s over.” She doesn’t know she won’t.

“Wanda!” she screams on top of her lungs, not being able to find the girl. “Wanda!” She stumbles, falls, stands up again. “Wanda.” She loses hope, her voice breaking. “Wanda?” She sees Steve sitting next to a dead Vision, a little pile of dust next to him. Right where Wanda has been. At first she’s paralyzed. “Oh god,” she hears Steve say and then breaks down with a guttural scream. “Wanda!” she screeches, “Wanda!” Steve tries to hold her, but the only arms she wants around herself are Wanda’s, and Wanda is gone. “Wanda,” she sobs over and over again, not being able to stop. “Wanda...” 

“Wanda,” she mumbles quietly in her sleep and Steve looks down at her, softly combing through her long, red hair with his fingers, ignoring the book on his knees. “Wanda,” she whispers again and gasps softly. It’s been a little over a year and not a night has gone by without Natasha crying out for the dead witch in her sleep. He wishes to be able to help her, but he can’t. He’s tried, he can’t. Nobody can, so she keeps on whispering: “Wanda...” and his heart breaks for her over and over again. “Wanda,” she breathes, and he sometimes gets the feeling she says that name because they’re together in her twisted dreams, holding each other close and he hears Natasha say “Wanda” again. But when he looks down at her, she hasn’t made a sound, her eyes still squeezed shut, like she’s fighting so she doesn’t have to lose the witch another time. “Wanda.”


End file.
